Fever
by Lady Aeryn
Summary: In a place designed to bring death, Anakin Skywalker feels more alive, more connected to the universe than he has in months.


**Title:** Fever  
**Characters:** Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala  
**Rating:** R  
**Genre:** PWP/Smut/possible slight AU  
**Length:** ~1700 words  
**Summary:** "Missing scene" from the Blue Shadow Virus duology; Anakin and Padmé make time for a quickie.  
**Disclaimer:** Just playing in GL's driveway, hoping he doesn't back his car over me. ;)

The walk to Botanicals Room 6-R is agonizing every step of the way. He's not certain when he's showed more restraint. Every atom of his being is screaming for him to run, but he keeps his stride even - perhaps too even - as he navigates the corridors, managing a polite nod when he passes a clone at work. He has less than fifteen minutes before he's due to meet Obi-Wan topside again to escort that damned doctor to Theed, to face a more merciful carriage of justice than he deserves.

Almost unwillingly Anakin's blood rushes more loudly at the thought of Vindi, at the memory of Padmé's thrashes and cries as he'd electrocuted her and Jar Jar. Anakin has to actually pause a moment to stop himself from punching something. Only the knowledge that Padmé is waiting for him proves a strong enough salve for his anger.

It had seemed to take forever to disentangle himself from Ahsoka. From the glint in her eyes when he'd finally left, he suspected his Padawan had an idea of just where he was in such a hurry to get to - probably why she'd seemed to take such pleasure in detaining him. But if anything, Ahsoka had seemed amused, certainly not worried or jealous. Not that he has any intention of confirming anything to her any time soon. He tells himself it's just as much to protect her as it is to protect him and Padmé: in the event they are ever discovered, the less culpable his apprentice is in the matter, the better for her future.

But all these thoughts are retreating swiftly in his mind the closer he gets to the lab. His body is already hot with the awareness that _she's_ there, that she's alone, that she's waiting for him - and that they don't have long.

Much to his relief, when he arrives at the door to the lab, he senses only her. She's agitated too, increasingly so with each moment. Impatient. No doubt wondering what's kept him. He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago. Well, no reason to make her wait any longer.

The containment door's already sealing shut behind him when she turns to face him. The simultaneous relief and desire on her face is all he needs. He's hard simply from looking at her. There's never a moment with her that he _doesn't_ desire her, but the long separation and the urgency of this moment only intensifies the potency.

"Ani - "

His name disappears into his own mouth as it seals onto hers, his hands cradling her face as he backs her up to one of the empty tables. She hops lightly on top of the table, half-pulling Anakin with her, half-allowing him to bend her back onto its surface, still kissing her. The smell of the flowering plants in the lab is wild, heady, intoxicating – but not nearly as much as the scent of _her_. Her warmth pulsing under his fingertips. So alive, whole, beautiful. So nearly lost to him today.

Their tongues and hands tangle as they fumble to undo each other's clothing, pants and undergarments and gloves shoved or tossed out of the way. She slides her palms along his body to slip under his tunic, under his newly-opened trousers. Small, delicate fingers splay on the taut muscles of his lower abdomen, draw their nails over them, following them down to cup him. His breath hitches at the sensation of her grip moving up and down his engorged length as she lets out a tiny moan of approval. She glances downward, then back up at him, and smiles wickedly. It takes self-control he didn't know he possessed to keep from releasing right then and there. As she initiates another open-mouthed kiss, Anakin's blood pounds so loudly in his ears that she must hear it too.

Two fingers of his flesh hand slip into her folds and are rewarded with a rush of warm slickness. She whimpers against his mouth, reflexively arching against his touch, causing his fingers to rub repeatedly against that spot within her. Satisfied of her readiness, slowly, torturously, he removes the hand, and uses it to pin one of her own roaming ones to the table. She shifts impatiently beneath him, spreading her hips to accommodate him the best she can given that her pants are still around her boots. Anakin briefly wishes she'd been wearing one of her simple gowns instead, though of course he knows it's not practical. This will do have to do for this moment.

He braces himself above her - looks into her eyes - and pushes quickly into her waiting warmth. He doesn't want to hurt her, but it's been so long, and he knows she doesn't care. His name escapes her again in a gasp of pleasure mingled with pain. He'd almost forgotten how this feels, the sensation of being inside her, _surrounded_ by her. He groans as fingernails dig into his hips, so hard that he knows they will leave marks. Before his own eyes flutter shut he sees her head fall back with a small cry. She rolls her hips, burying him in her completely. She gasps again at the moment he hits her center, and presses her mouth to his shoulder. He starts thrusting, steadily increasing his pace, completely lost in the feeling of being with her again. He could have lost her today - but she is alive, unharmed, and here. The blood and screams and pain and ash that mark his time away from her wash away, no match for her presence. In a place designed to bring death, Anakin Skywalker feels more alive, more _connected_ to the universe than he has in months. Every time they're together, he's utterly baffled how he survived being without her - or wonders whether he was merely _existing_.

_I know, Ani._

He opens his eyes to see Padmé watching him, chest rising and falling quickly like his own, her dark eyes wide with recognition. It's not the first time something like this has happened - on their very wedding night there had been a few moments of connection so intense that for a split-second it seemed like he literally _was_ her, looking back up at himself. But this is the first time he can remember actually hearing complete words from her in his mind, in the Force. She smiles, still breathing heavily, and draws her trembling fingers across his cheekbone.

Her eyes fall shut for a moment as she shudders and he can feel her muscles fluttering around him, her fingers digging into his back now, the pace of her breathing more rapid, and knows she's not long. She opens her eyes again, and they soften as she watches him move above her, inside her. She bites her lip and he's momentarily alarmed to see a bit of moisture glittering in her eyes - but somehow he knows it's not because he's hurting her. There's an ache there, yes - but not a physical pain.

_I love you._

He's not sure which of them thinks it, but it doesn't matter.

Short of breath himself, he smiles and leans forward again to kiss her. He drives even harder, practically slamming their bodies together, and she continues to clench tighter and tighter around him. His own eyes squeeze shut as he tries not to beat her to the finish. Even in their hurried state, his own pleasure is never more satisfying than when it follows that expression on her face as she comes, that ecstasy so pure and intense it pulls him to his own brink. One of her hands finds his, and she twines their fingers together.

He's still kissing her when she comes, letting him absorb her cry. Her hand clenches his so strongly that he's certain she's bruised it, but he doesn't mind. Barely pausing to breathe - what was oxygen compared to her? - he sustains the kiss through his release as well, spilling everything into her.

She brushes the hair from his face.

"That was quite a workout," she says with a tired grin, still breathing heavily.

He inclines his head in a mock bow. "I do my best, my lady."

She rolls her eyes at him as he chuckles, and pulls him down for another kiss.

Somewhere off to the side comes an insistent beeping. Anakin ignores it, moving his mouth down to her neck.

"Ani - "

"It can wait," he says, still nuzzling. She deserves better than this: stolen, hasty moments pinned against tables or wedged in dingy closets, him always having to rush away from her like she's some ill-begotten tryst instead of his _wife_. He looks into the liquid warmth of her eyes... and shoves the old anger down, reminding himself that any time with her, no matter how brief, is no less precious and still vastly preferable to being apart from her.

Padmé visibly struggles with the urge not to concede the argument as his lips find the hollow of her throat - a favorite spot for both of them. "They're not going anywhere without me," he murmurs against her skin.

She forces him to look at her. The comm beeps again, louder this time. _"Ani."_

He stares at her in exasperation, giving way to defeat. She's right, of course. She's always right. She smiles bemusedly as he answers the comm, Obi-Wan's own exasperation coming through crystal-clear. Anakin ends the conversation and stands up, helping Padmé off the table. Neither of them say a word as they compose themselves.

She can't help but reach out and smooth his uniform, brush a stray lock of hair out of his face. It's part of the same routine they have every morning, no matter how fleeting the reunion. He likes it. Even in their most rushed moments, it creates a feeling of almost... normalcy.

_One day, my love. One day._

The comm chirps again, and Anakin hurries to the door. Before he presses the unlock, he glances back over his shoulder at her. Before he knows it, he's crossed the space back to her, taking her face in his hands and crushing his lips to hers.

Then he's really gone. As the door shuts behind him one last time he glimpses Padmé smile tiredly, but happily.

**[ end ]**


End file.
